


Try the Pie

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baker AU, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's lived here for years, and never noticed the little bakery tucked away into the folds of the town. It's small and unassuming, but inside is one of the most beautiful people he's seen in his life. Baker!Castiel/Teacher!Dean EDITED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try the Pie

**Author's Note:**

> This came about after a conversation about Dean and Cas' love child (that gif on tumblr) and how he is a cutiepie. And so, of course one of his parents must be a baker. Thus, this Baker!Cas was born. ALSO! It has been edited so that the ending isn't as short and abrupt as before. It's about 1000 or so words longer.

Try the Pie

Dean doesn't know how long he's lived in this town without noticing Heaven's Bakery. He's on his normal routine and he just sees it for the first time, nestled among the flashier buildings, modest and simple. It's red brick with an elegantly designed sign pronouncing the name simply. No gimmicks, nothing stand-offish. And the name just fits the place; it isn't cheesy like it would be anywhere else. He thinks it looks like the kind of place where you go and the employees know your name and ask about your family. He can see how he's missed it all this time, but at the same time he can't. He doesn't know how he ever missed it before. But he promises himself that he's going to go back there tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes and he just finds himself walking past, admiring the place, for sure, but never setting foot inside. The next day passes just like the first and it continues like this for a month. Dean is strangely fixated on a bakery he's never even been in; he has dreams about what it's like sometimes. He's secretly afraid that he's built it up in his head too much, that he'll only be disappointed. Each day he passes right by, goes home to his empty apartment.

It's a Thursday when Sam calls him. It's his free period, and he's using it to grade papers so that, hopefully he doesn't have to do it at home later. A guy can hope, right? His cell phone starts buzzing on the corner of his desk, and he barely catches it before it buzzes right off. The caller I.D. says "Bitch"; Sam's usually bad at calling him in the middle of the day. He usually tries in the middle of class and Dean just ignore him. Sam lives one state over, is a big-shot lawyer, the life he's wanted since their mother. He thinks it'll make up for the fact that he never got to know her, Dean thinks. But Sam's happy doing it anyway. And Dean? Dean's just happy teaching bored high school kids about history.

"Hey," Dean says into the phone by way of greeting.

"Oh, have I finally called at a good time?" Sam's electronic voice says.

"Naw, the students just dared me to answer the phone," Dean says with a chuckle.

"Dean! That's so unprofessional of you! You don't take dares from sixteen year olds!"

"Relax, Sammy," Dean says, kicking his feet up on his desk, "I was just kidding. It's my free period."

"I'm still not sure how you don't scare those kids."

"Hey! I'm a fucking awesome teacher."

"I hope you don't use that language around the children."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Why are you even calling, anyway?"

"Well," Sam begins, and Dean braces himself, because no good sentences begin with "well","Jonathan's at Jessica's parents' place for the weekend and we thought we might come over for the weekend."

"So, let me see if I've got this straight," Dean says, "Instead of using your childless weekend to have hot sex, you're going to come visit me and make me feel bad with your perfect couple-ness?"

"We don't want to make you feel bad. I just want to see my big brother," Sam says, and then snorts, "You really should find someone, though, Dean. You're thirty-five. I'm willing to bet even you get lonely."

"No, I'm fine alone."

"No, Dean, you're not. You live and breathe family, and you like taking care of people. Now that I'm living on my own, you don't have someone to look after, and I think that you being alone isn't really healthy."

"See you Tomorrow, Sam."

Today, Dean stops. He's not sure what it is about today, but today he pulls over and enters the bakery. It's clean and bright, but not impersonal, with red seats and tables scattered around. There is a display of bright cakes and different pastries. There's a section for the discounted "left-over" from yesterday for people that aren't too picky, and of course, _pie._ Dean stares at the pie for a little bit, the perfectly-baked, flaky crust and the small amount of fruit filling oozing out the center hole. He's staring at all the pies, mesmerized when someone walks up to the counter from the back of the shop. And if Dean thinks the pie is gorgeous, then this man is jaw-dropping. He has dark hair and blue eyes like ice but not as cold and a that jawline littered with stubble and Dean's staring but he can't help himself.

The man clears his throat and Dean remembers himself. Of course the baker wouldn't want him staring, all the good men were either taken or straight, right? Although, Dean's got the most accurate gaydar of anyone he knows and this man is more than a little bent. But then again, looking at him, this man must never be single for long, even in a smallish town with a small LGBT community. Dean, personally, plays for both teams which makes it easier for him, but this man is just flat-out gay if the good ol' 'dar has anything to say about it.

"Can I help you?" the man says, and Dean has to consciously keep himself standing at that voice. If that voice doesn't appear in his dreams that night, he doesn't know what will. But he composes himself enough to reply, "I think I''ll try the pie." He gives the man his patented Winchester "I want to sleep with you" smile.

"Which kind?" the man says, blinking at him.

"Surprise me."

"Whole pie?"

"Yeah."

There's nothing unprofessional about their conversation, nothing out of the ordinary, but Dean can't help but leave feeling like he's been deconstructed and and stripped bare; that this man knew more about him than anyone else. It was something about how intense those eyes were, how long they bored into Dean's own without looking away. If Dean didn't know any better, he would say that the baker was staring into Dean's soul.

All Friday during class, Dean's mind wanders to the man from the bakery. He thinks about him during break, during lunch and after school. He knows he's kind of distracted, but his ears are ringing with echoes of that _voice._ He can't properly grade because every sentence he reads he has to re-read and re-re-read until he just gives up and lets himself envision what might be under that apron. Vaguely, as he's just sitting back in his chair during free period, he hears some girls that have their lockers just outside of his classroom having a conversation. He doesn’t' pay attention until he hears his name.

"Have you seen Mr. Winchester's doe eyes today? How much do you wanna bet he's found someone finally?" the first girl is saying.

"Yep. He's found some woman to love. Kind of sad."

"It is a shame. He's really hot. I'll feel bad ogling some other woman's man."

"I won't!"

Dean just hopes that if it's that obvious that he's smitten, Sam won't notice. It doesn't help that he stops by the bakery again that evening just to see him. And to buy another pie, but that's secondary. The baker is already standing behind the counter and Dean can't help but wonder why it's never very busy in the shop, because that pie was...well, heavenly.

"Back so soon?" He says in that gravelly voice, quirking his head to one side. Dean can't stop the shiver that runs through his body and makes him quiver a little bit.

"It was good pie." Dean says, a sheepish look on his face. It _was_ good pie, but he hadn't eaten all of it in one day. He'd actually just eaten two pieces. Cherry, a classic and one of the best cherry pies he's ever had. "But, no, " he continues, "I didn't eat it all. My brother's going to be in town this weekend and he kind of likes all those fancy flavors. Do you think you might have anything?"

"Hmmm," the baker says, "try this mango-pineapple one. It's one of my favorites and it's not a typical flavor." Dean shells out the money for the pastry and has it in a bag, ready to leave, but he's lingering. "I'm Castiel," the baker says, "It's lovely to see you again. Hope you come back soon."

"I'm Dean," he says, smiling again, "And I will."

"Well, goodbye, Dean." And Dean was right, no good sentence starts with "well". But now that he's heard that voice say his name, he doesn't think he'll have too big a problem with it. He drives home and eats another piece of the cherry pie, thinking that he's never going to be able to look at a pie the same way again. This infatuation has just hit him so hard that he's out of breath, got nothing to hold onto for support and he can feel himself falling. It's bad because he's barely met the man; he doesn't like basing things on looks, but then again, it never was just he looks, was it? There was the way he spoke, and how he tilts his head, and how he stares into Dean's eyes with his own like he's seeing to the soul behind them, like he's unabashed to connect with people. So he's slumped on his couch, drinking a beer and thinking about Castiel the baker--Cas, as he's started calling him in his head--when Sam shows up on his doorstep with Jessica trailing behind him.

He leads them to the guest bedroom and Jessica pats Dean on the head like he's a dog or a child in the manner that she always does, and then claims tiredness and shuffles into the guest bedroom. Sam and Dean are left standing in the kitchen, next to the pie.

"You always did love pie." Sam says, looking at them, and it's a segway to something else, Dean can tell; he knows his brother and his tendency for touchy-feely chick-flick moments. "I meant what I said, Dean, you need to find someone. Is there anyone in this place that even catches your eye?"

"No." Dean says, but it's too quick, almost too rehearsed as though he's been practicing it, but he hasn't. He was expecting this, of course, however. Sam catches it, too, Dean knows and he's not going to get out of this alive.

"There is someone, isn't there?" Sam grins at him, "Who is it? Do they like you back?" Dean's eye briefly flicker to the pies, thinking of Castiel and his blue eyes and deep voice, thinks of him making the pies, wonders if he thinks of Dean. Sam, ever perceptive, sees this flash of the eyes, notes his brother's soft smile and calmness. "Do the pies have something to do with them?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Dean says, running a hand through his hair, as Sam gives him a bitchface, "I may or may not have a slight infatuation with the baker."

"Awww, Dean's got a crush. How cute."

"You know I hate that term." Dean says, narrowing his eyes, "And it's not like it's that serious, gosh."

"You should ask them out." Sam says.

"Him." Dean says.

"What?"

"The baker, he's a him. So you can stop saying 'them'. You make me sound polyamorous or something."

"Ask him out." Sam repeats, "It's not like you're shy or anything."

"Yeah, but if he's not interested, or taken, I'm never going to be able to go back and get this pie. It's really good pie, Sam." Dean says seriously, almost somberly.

"Dean, would you rather have a boyfriend or a pie?" Sam says, teasing.

"Pie _is_ the love of my life." Dean says, shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight onto his other leg.

"Dean, are you serious?" Sam says, leaning against the counter, which is ridiculously short compared to his monster-moose-body.

"I don't know if I'm ready to give up pie," Dean says, looking over at the pie longingly.

"Dean, what are you doing? You live alone and spend all your time grading papers. You don't even go out and pick up random people from bars anymore." Sam says, shrugging his shoulders in a questioning way. What the question is, Dean isn't quite sure, but doesn't think he wants to know.

"I'm too old for that shit, Sammy. I'm happy."

"You're content. There's a difference."

"I'm fine, Sam, I don't want to talk about it."

"I just want you to be happy like I am. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes, if you're meddling in my life."

"Goodnight, Dean." Sam says, "But you're taking me to that bakery. I'll get a pie for Jonathan." Dean mumbles something to him about "ulterior motives" but doesn't dispute the fact that they're going to get more pie tomorrow. He dreams that night of that deep voice saying his name, of blue eyes pleading with him and wakes up feeling guilty because his brother is in the other room and he would usually care, but all he can think about right now is Cas the beautiful baker. He's scared of that all-consuming, throw-everything-to-the-wind kind of infatuation, is afraid to forget himself around the man. It's ridiculous that he's even thinking of him in this manner, because for all intents and purposes, Castiel is a stranger to Dean.

For breakfast they have pie, because Dean forgot to get much food and promises to do so that day. Sam and Jessica offer to make it a family ordeal, say they can get some food and make a nice dinner that night. So around noon they all set out to get groceries and stop by the bakery to buy Jonathan's pie. They walk in the door and Cas is standing there at the counter, as usual.

"Hello, Dean." He says, "Back so soon?" Dean grins at him, swaggers up to the counter and Sam and Jess follow him.

"Yeah, my brother liked your pie so much he wanted to get one to bring back home to his son." Dean waves to Sam and his wife without so much as looking at them, eyes as focused on Cas as Cas' were on him. "This is my brother and his wife. What would you suggest?"

"Children like my chocolate pies the best, usually. The chocolate-peanut butter one is a good seller, usually gone by the time you come around."

"If that's what you suggest, I'll take it, then." Cas smiles back at him and grabs the pie from the display case under his arms, handing it to him, his hand brushing Dean's. They stood there, smiling at each other for a few more moments before Dean remembered to pay.

"Thanks, Cas" He says as he's about to leave.

"Cas?" Castiel says, tilting his head in the way that Dean is already coming to find so adorable.

"Sorry. Nickname. If you don't like it I'll use your full name."

"No. No. I..like it." He seems almost confused about this, but smiles nonetheless at Dean and says, "Come back soon."

"I will." Dean says, and pushes open the door.

Sam and Jessica burst into high-speed babble as soon as they're seated in the Impala. Eventually they realize that talking all at once is not conducive to understanding, so they take turns fawning over how cute the exchange was and how Dean should ask him out. And then they stop talking to Dean altogether and start talking about him.

"Did you see that eye-fucking?" Sam is saying.

"Did you hear that nickname?" Jess says.

"The flirting!"

"The..everything. They were just cute."

"You know," Dean says, "I'm right here. I can hear you."

And queue bitchface number two of this visit.

They end up making italian-ish food. Namely: made up pasta dishes that taste pretty good but are likely nowhere near traditional. Then Jess exits with a flourish and a kiss on Sam's cheek.

"Dude, you two better not be soiling my guest room sheets." Btichface number three.

"Dean, let's talk about what happened today at the bakery."

"Nothing happened! I bought you a pie!"

"You were...smiling. Like I haven't seen you smile in a while. Why are you so afraid to let yourself be happy?"

Dean doesn't sleep very well that night. He wakes up, though, bids his brother and Jess goodbye, then goes for a walk to clear his head. _Why are you so afraid to let yourself be happy?_ He's not one for introspection, but the words keep coming into his head. He's not afraid, he thinks at first. He's just satisfied with his life as it is, he doesn't need anyone else. Especially not cute bakers. But then he realizes that that doesn't make sense and curses Sam for infiltrating his life and making him think about it to the point where he realizes that he's dissatisfied. He does want someone to cuddle (even though he will deny that to his grave), to kiss at night, and although it's late for kids, he likes dogs a little. He does want this stuff, but he never saw himself actually getting it before, has never met someone who could do that for him. And although Cas is basically a stranger, now, when he pictures his future, it's got that little dude in it. He's just _there._ In Dean's imaginary bed, in the kitchen making breakfast together, kissing him, even bringing him lunch at school when he forgets it at home. In three conversations this guy has wormed his way into Dean's mind and he doesn't know how. But he does know that he doesn't want to lose it.

He drives over to the bakery and forces himself to walk normally, not to shake. It's ridiculous how nervous he is and when he opens the door, Cas isn't the one at the counter. It's some short guy with longish brown hair and a big grin. And when Dean asks, he finds out that it's Cas' day off and that this is Gabe.

"Got a little crush on Cassie?" Gabe says and winks at Dean. Dean deflates; of course he has a boyfriend. He mumbles something and walks out of the store, numbly grabs for his keys an drives home on auto-pilot. He doesn't understand how a guy he's barely talked to can make him feel so crushed. Somehow, this doesn't stop him from showing up at the shop Monday after school lets out. Somewhere, he must have masochistic tendencies, Dean thinks as he pushes the door open.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel says almost immediately, "Gabriel says you stopped by yesterday but didn't buy anything." Dean bites his lip and looks away, slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah," he says, walking up to the counter and placing his hands on the display glass, "I kinda came in just to talk to you."

"Oh, yes, I don't work on Sundays." Castiel says.

"I noticed." Dean says, and can't help an amused chuckle from slipping out. They sort of smile stupidly at each other until Dean decides to just take a leap, "So, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime, you know, as friends."

"Oh," Castiel says, looking slightly less enthused than Dean hoped he would, "I would like that. I will have to get Gabriel to take over the shop for a night." And then Castiel smiles, "I've never had friends outside of my family."

"Yeah," Dean says softly, thinking back, "All of the non familial friends I've ever had are gone now. And I moved here a few years back and haven't really made any friends since, 'cept my brother." They smile a little more until Dean breaks the comfortable silence and gestures with his thumb at the door behind him and makes to leave, but Castiel stops him with a hand on his arm. He presses a button on the register and it spits out some blank receipt paper, on which he scribbles a number and hands it to Dean.

"Just text me tonight and we can arrange an outing." And with a smile, Dean Winchester exits the bakery, and programs the number into his phone before he even gets into the Impala. He gets home and eats another two slices of cherry pie before getting enough nerve to even consider texting Castiel. Which, speaking of, he really should get more pie, seeing as he has two slices of this one left and Sam took the other two. But he's been back every single day and that might look a little desperate.

His phone is sitting next to him and he's staring at it intently. Finally, after the phone wins the staring contest, he picks it up and types about five different messages out until he finds the right one and then he accidentally sends it to Jess. After explaining to her that he meant to send it to Cas and then getting a phone call from her where she demanded to know everything and talking for half an hour, he's finally sent a simple text to Cas:

_Hey, it's Dean._

The reply comes a minute later: _Hello, Dean._ and Dean chuckles over that.

_About later this week?_

_The only day I can get him to cover is on Wednesday. Is that okay with you?_

_Yeah. What do you want to do?_

_There is a small cafe a couple blocks away from the shop that I love, but rarely get to go to._

_Cool. Meet at the shop and we can maybe go there together?_

_Sounds good._

The time until Wednesday passes far too slowly, but too quick as well, because Dean finds himself standing at his closet trying to find the perfect clothes. This is disregarding the fact that Cas is taken and has seen him in his almost-laundry-day clothing before. He's nearly late because of digging through the dirty pants for his favorite pair, but manages to walk into the classroom a minute before class starts. The day goes horribly, through not much of his fault. The students are rowdy and uncontrollable; there's a fire alarm because Gordon burnt popcorn in the teacher's lounge again. He's got a headache by the end and is in a sour mood, but he still heads over to Castiel's bakery and tries to cover it up.

The first thing that Cas says to him after "Hello, Dean." is "Is something the matter?"

"School was terrible today, is all." Dean replies, dropping the act and rubbing his temples.

"You are a student?" Castiel says, confused.

"What?" Dean says, looking at the Baker's confused eyes, "Oh, no, I teach high school."

"Oh," Castiel says, eyes soft, expression unreadable, "It suits you."`

"Thanks." Dean says, smiling, and then gestures into the car, "Would you like to go?"

"Oh, I usually walk, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, just give me a second." He says, locking the Impala. He turns to Castiel, "Alright, let's go."

It's a couple of blocks away, and they walk mostly in comfortable silence. Except when Castiel is asking Dean quiet questions and then going silent again when he answers. The cafe is simply known as Desdemona's Corner. It's a cute little place, and they get a table near the back, place their orders and just talk. Castiel talks about baking ("I just like to make things") and his family ("I have a whole lot of brothers and sisters. One time Gabriel...") and when Dean asks, that his name is a variation on the name of an angel ("My mother was so full of drugs from the hospital that she kind of said it wrong"). Dean talks about cars ("The Impala used to be my dad's") and history ("The current American accent is actually what the English accent used to be, you know") and his brother and nephew ("Sam's a moose"). For all intents and purposes, it just feels like a date. But they keep mentioning the word friend wherever they can, sometimes a little awkwardly, because Dean doesn't want Cas' boyfriend to think that he's making moves. He wishes he could be making moves, but he's not that kind of guy. And when the outing is over, the sun fallen below the tree line and the cafe closing soon, they step outside, and walk back to the bakery.

"Well," Dean says, feeling a little like a boy bringing a girl home after a date, "Here we are."

"Yes, we are." Neither of them moves. That is, until Castiel speaks up, "Dean, I do not know if I can carry on like this if you wish to be only friends."

"What?" Dean's eyebrows almost meet at the middle with how forcefully he's pushing them towards each other.

"I like you, Dean." Castiel says, not a hint of irony.

"What about your boyfriend?" Dean says, running a hand through his hair.

"What boyfriend?" Castiel says, tilting his head to the side.

"Gabriel!" Dean says.

"Dean, Gabriel is my brother." Cas says, smiling a little in obvious amusement.

"Wait...what? Why didn't you say that?" Dean says, getting a little excited as he realizes what's happening.

"I thought I did. I might not have been clear enough, although I thought he had told you so, I must admit." Cas' smile gets even bigger, and he's approaching Dean's personal space rapidly.

"I'm a fucking idiot." Dean says, groaning.

"Yes, you are." Castiel says, and then shuts Dean up with his mouth. And they kiss there, illuminated by a street light, in front of a small, intimate bakery tucked away between much flashier buildings.

 


End file.
